


Perfect

by TheLateNightStoryTeller



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Seriously it's all fluff, but love wins out, proposal fic, things go a bit wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 00:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6064495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLateNightStoryTeller/pseuds/TheLateNightStoryTeller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma wants her surprise for Fitz to be perfect, but of course the universe has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect

It was meant to be the perfect evening. She _should_ have had enough time to get everything ready before Fitz’s return.

Of course he’d decided to surprise her, her silly, thoughtful man, on the exact day she most wanted to surprise _him._ Timing had never been their strength and now, because her genius boyfriend had completed his assignment early, she was left scrambling around their flat, trying to do four hour’s work in less than one.

Struggling to apply her eyeliner as she arranged the candles, Jemma checked the timer on lasagna, wondering if it’d be a mistake to turn the broiler on early. Her hair had been blown dry but she hadn’t had time to style it yet and since her only dress was still at the cleaners, she was wearing a blue blouse and dress pants instead. Blue because it meant trust, it meant a promise, and even though she wasn’t superstitious she enjoyed the symbolism. Now she thought that maybe she should have picked the white blouse though. She looked better in that one and even though she knew, in the long run, the important thing was going to be how they’d _felt_ that night, she still wanted to look her best too. And she wanted to have the food ready, and the good cutlery out, and rose petals on the table but it was too late to pick the petals up from the store and the silverware was unpolished.

She stood in their kitchen, her hair a mess and nothing the way she’d imagined it to be, and wondered if maybe she should postpone this. It should be perfect. Fitz deserved perfect. They both did, but they were leaving for Germany in six days and her parents were coming tomorrow and what if their next mission didn’t go as smoothly as the last one had?

No, she couldn’t wait. She’d waited _years_ for this already and she wasn’t going to delay any longer. This was going to be their moment and it _was_ going to be perfect. She just needed to remain calm, get creative, and this would all work out.

Instead of turning on the broiler early, she turned the oven up by thirty degrees and rushed to the bathroom to curl her hair. As she twirled her locks into shape, an idea sprung into her head, one that spread a wide grin across her face.

Leaving the curling iron to cool, she sped into their room, pulling the craft box out from under the bed and rummaging through it. Her eyes fell on the bedside clock. Twenty minutes and Fitz would be coming through the door. She needed to _hurry._

/-/-/

She was just finishing up, lighting the last candle when Fitz’s keys slid into the lock. With a bolt of joy in her chest, she scrambled to the front hallway to greet him, managing to click off the kitchen light on the way there.  His laughter rang in her ears when the enthusiasm of her embrace knocked him backwards and his arms folded around her.

“I have a surprise for you,” she told him, her arms remaining around his neck once they’d finished properly saying hello to each other.

His eyes sparkled and he nuzzled his nose against hers, clearly glad to be home. “Is it a monkey.”

“Fitz I can guarantee you that I will never surprise you with a monkey in our flat,” she answered with some amusement. “But you’ll like this… or at least I hope so… unless I’ve been presumptuous but I don’t think I have. I hope I haven’t been, that would be rather embarrassing. Not that I’m putting any pressure on you to-“ Her mouth clamped shut, bringing a halt to her nervous babbling. She was going to give it away and completely ruin everything if she kept rambling on like _that._

Why did her stomach suddenly feel like it was trying to turn over? Why did her head feel like someone had filled it with fuzz? She knew her face must have been a deep shade of pink, she could feel the heat in her cheeks as the blood roared past her ears.

Fitz’s eyes narrowed in concern. “Jemma? Is everything alright?” he asked.

“Everything is absolutely wonderful,” she chirped. “I couldn’t be better. You’re here, were together, no one is trying to destroy the world at the moment- at least not that we know of, I’m sure someone somewhere might be attempting to steal a nuclear bomb or unleash an ancient evil….”

She was killing the mood, she could see it from the look on his face.

_‘You’re a spy, you can do better than this,_ ’ she scolded herself angrily. _‘You’ve kept it together better working under cover for Hydra. This is ridiculous. Stop being ridiculous.’_

Fitz took her hand, intertwining their fingers, and smiled softly at her. “Is this the part where you ask me to close my eyes?” he asked.

Jemma swallowed, managing a nod. “It is.”

He scrunched them shut. “Lead the way.”

Eased by his support, she pulled him gently towards the kitchen, stopping him so that she could angle him towards the table and the mobile hanging from the light above it.

“Alright, you can open them now,” she whispered.

When he did, it took him a minute to take in the scene in front of him. The table was set for two, candles dancing underneath the hanging cards of paper and each card had something different written on it. She allowed him to inspect each one, watching his expression change as he read them, his eyes misting over as he neared the end.

_My love_

_My hero_

_My best friend_

_My partner_

_My other half_

_My heart_

_You_

He opened his mouth but nothing came out, the flames reflected off the tears that had fallen onto his cheek. It was then, when her chest was so tight she wasn’t sure how she was managing to breath, and the butterflies in her stomach were starting a panicked frenzy, that she took his hand and got down on one knee.

She watched understanding wash over him, saw him melt in front of her and she knew that this was it, this was the moment they’d remember.

“Fitz,” she began but her throat was closing up and she took a deep breath, wanting her words to come out certain. “Leopold Fitz, will you-“

_BEEP BEEP BEEP_

The fire alarm screeched from the kitchen, cutting her off. It was one of only a handful of times in her life that she would ever swear out loud, and she was almost glad that it was loud enough that Fitz hadn’t heard.

Leaping to her feet, she tore into the kitchen, snatching up the oven mitts to yank the now crispy lasagna out of the oven while Fitz took the dish towel to wave the smoke away from the alarm.

She looked down at the ruined meal, her eyes burning, breathing long breaths through her nose. How had she forgotten about the lasagna? What was the matter with her? Two PHDs and she couldn’t figure out how to plan a proposal without ruining everything. Book smarts weren’t good for everything she supposed.

“I never liked that fire alarm,” Fitz kidded behind her.

“It wasn’t the alarm,” she said dully. “I’m so sorry Fitz, I wanted this to be perfect.”

“Jemma that was the most beautiful surprise I’ve ever had,” he told her. “It _is_ perfect.”

She turned, sniffing as she met his eyes. The way he was smiling at her made the world sing and her heart lifted. “It is?” she whispered. “You aren’t just saying that because…”

“Because I’m madly in love with you?” he guessed and she couldn't help smiling at that. She'd never get tired of hearing him say it. “No, but that is why it means so much that you did it.”

They were both crying now, tears of joy under the yellow kitchen light, and she was astounded by the power of the emotion taking hold of her. It was love, pure and everlasting and she knew with absolute certainty that he was what she wanted, for better or for worse, whatever went wrong and for all that would go right. So she crossed the distance between them and tried again, taking his hand in both of hers as she knelt before him.

“Will you marry me?” she asked. The words were spoken with absolute certainty, her heart in her hands, in his too now, and she waited with baited breath for him to reply.

Fortunately, she didn’t need to wait long.

“Yes.” He nodded, looking like a bobble head on a washing machine. “Yes, I will. I mean I do... I mean yes.” He fell to his knees, sliding his arm behind her, and they leaned forward, meeting in the middle to seal it with a salty kiss.

"Do... do I say yes or I do?" he asked breathlessly. 

She kissed him again, carefully pulling his head forward so their lips could find each other. "I think you've made your point either way," she mused against his chin. She butted her forehead against his, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. “I love you.”

He cupped her cheek, sliding his thumb across her skin like he was touching the universe. “I love you too.”

 /-/-/

**Author's Note:**

> thanks somefitzsimmonsfan for letting me take you up on your prompt :D


End file.
